Every Single Time
by SweetArrogance
Summary: Puck/Santana.  The story behind the sex...


**So honestly, it's not very long, and I don't know if that leaves something to be desired, but this was just a little vignette, a little insight into the possible Pucktanna relationship. Read, Rate, Enjoy :)**

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Every Single Time

Santana found comfort in the shape of Puck's mattress. She knew how many girls he brought home on a weekly basis but still the general shape it had taken on fit her body perfectly…

…_she was the one who came back, every single time._

She watched as he hovered over her body, his gaze lingering a little too long on her face before he attacked her lips. She didn't mind the biting, or the desperate clawing of his hands through her hair. She was more interested in that look he had given her, like she was something different to him than the rest…

…_it always came back to her…_

Feeling a little out of it Santana decided to do nothing. She lay like a corpse while Puck pulled out all the stops. She knew he'd be mad if she didn't start sucking on his dick or something but that resistant, naive, part of her wanted to see him get angry. Maybe…finally…there'd be a little honesty between the two. Maybe he'd show his true colors…maybe he'd stop being afraid to feel…

…_it sucked that she had this power over him, but he couldn't deny the fluttery feeling in his stomach when it was her hands wrapped around his neck, and nobody else's…_

Puck noticed that she wasn't reciprocating and immediately stopped. "You're such a bitch," he muttered. He pushed himself off her but didn't get off the bed entirely, and the proximity of their bodies barely diminished. Now they weren't making out they were just staring at each other.

…_she missed the feeling of him on top of her, it was something she needed to feel to feel alive._

Santana threw herself on top of him, all of a sudden willing to comply with any of his sexual desires. She kissed him fiercely, hands groping, trying to make him happy. She wanted to please him. Like some sick, sexual fantasy. She would bow to his command. He was her King.

_She was his Queen. She rocked his world._

They lay under the sheets, bodies filling the forms worn into the mattress. But even after the sex they didn't stop. After so many years it had become more of an obligation. It was routine. They had a system. But this…

…this was needy, passionate, desperate… Santana yearned for Puck in a way she never knew possible. His hands never left her skin and he found new ways to touch her; with his forehead, pressed up against hers…his nose brushing hers affectionately

…_wait, was Puck actually being cute?_

She bit his lip, using her tongue to lick the sore area after she removed her teeth, her hot breath warming the frigid area above his heart. She wanted to fix him. She wanted to fix everything, but she knew she couldn't, so at least she could fix Puck. She could thaw out his heart. She could rip the emotions out of his iron-clad soul. She could brush away the nonexistent tears.

…_he'd never wanted her so badly before. For once he wasn't just plugging up a hole with chewing gum, he was letting it bleed, and letting her heal it with her soft hands._

"We're pathetic," he mutters dryly, as they cling onto each other for dear life.

"The world needs people like us," she whispers, "Sad people. We make other people feel good about themselves."

"We're not sad. We're just being ourselves. There's always something a little more fucked than you. Like that crazy old man in the alley by Breadstix. That guy's batshit crazy."

_It's almost like a date…almost_

Santana's fingers were awkwardly threaded through Puck's big meat hands as they walked slowly through the alleyway. Puck dumped what was left of his Coke bottle on the crazy old man and they ran away laughing. Damn that guy was so pathetic. Living in an alley…crazy old man.

_He makes them feel good about themselves…those sad people…they make him feel worse and they feel better…_

"So where are we going now, Lopez?" he asks, and the question holds more connotations then even he knows, at the moment.

She takes a purposefully large step across the pavement, "Forward…I guess. There's no other direction."

"Will I be seeing you?" he asks, as they separate to head back to respective houses.

She shrugs, and it hurts him in more ways than she'll ever know.

"For what it's worth, I always feel a little more at home when it's you lying under me,"

…_he'd never been this honest in his life_

It doesn't matter. He could have told her that she meant nothing to him and she'd still come back.

_I love you…_

…she wanted to say, but she spun on her heel and left him without another word. His heart clenched like a fist and he thought about leaving her good, but something drew him back…every single time.


End file.
